The pirate with the eyepatch raised his cutlass above his head, and young Theo knew in that fraction of a moment he would be dead or had to use the Bone Rattler. His brother, Rufus, had died helping him find the cursed child's toy, and he missed him ever since. That was another life ago, another boat; the energy of youth still filling their hearts. Falling in what the map called an eternal pit, Rufus tossed the engraved, silver rattle to Theo and it soared over his head while Theo watched his brother disappear in the empty dark. His cries of ‘Good-byes’, and ‘I'm sorry’s' echoing off the walls. So with the rivulets making clean lines along the dirt of his face, Theo pocketed the magical toy that was no bigger than a newborn's hand, and he sailed to the nearest port, and signed up with the next vessel leaving for the New World. The trip was uneventful, save for a few storms that helped Theo secure his belief in God, but once they were in sight of Martinique a ship with black flags bore down on them and they were under attach before they knew it. Most of the crew had been killed or wounded by the barrage of cannon fire before Theo even made it from the galley to the deck where he was immediately accosted by a man twice his size. The glint in the pirate’s one eye brought Theo out of his remembrances. And in that gap between death and salvation he reached his free hand into his pocket, rubbed the Bone Rattler and wished Rufus was there. Instantly the dead body of Rufus fell from the sky onto the pirate, killing him, and putting a hole in the deck, and because of the energy gained from the constant falling in bottomless pit, inserted another hole in two more decks below before the mangled bodies came to rest in a mess of blood, and intestines. Theo was alive, thanks to his brother, but how he’d hoped. Diving off the side of the ship he swam to the island with plans to never speak of this adventure again.